


Geez, You're Something to See

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Series: I Never Told You Til Just Now [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drinking Contest, F/M, Hunter is very bad at helping, Phil has issues, Skye and Hunter bonding, Skye is tired of Coulson's shit, Slow Burn, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3221651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Coulson seem to be taking two steps back, and when this becomes apparent on an undercover mission, Skye needs a break. Enter Lance Hunter, a bottle of booze and a surprisingly helpful heart to heart.<br/>Part 3 of my SkoulsonFest2k15 series, which will be four parts.<br/>Were this to be published on time, it would be day 6: loosen up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Geez, You're Something to See

**Author's Note:**

> So this was once going to be a three-parter, but now I see it will be four. I'm seeing a pattern with my version of Lance Hunter, but I just think that were he to try to help, he wouldn't have the best methods of going about it. Part 4 (the finale!) will hopefully be up Sunday or Monday, depending if I can wrap this guy up. Endings! So hard!

“ _You_ look like you could use a drink.”

Skye raised an eyebrow at Hunter, tossing her heels to the other side of the common room. “What makes you say that?” She drawled, brushing her once neatly styled bangs out of her face. She could feel more and more pieces fall out of the elaborate updo she had been wearing, but couldn’t bring herself to do anything about it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hunter said, standing up and walking to the makeshift bar. The Playground didn’t have the same modern feel as the Bus, but they had managed to turn one of the old offices into a nice enough living space, with couches found across the base (and cleaned thoroughly) and a vintage bookshelf serving as the liquor cabinet. “You spent an awful long time in those shoes,” he jerked his thumb in the direction she had tossed the pumps. “And I hear they’re a bitch. Not basing that off personal experience.” He held up two bottles questioningly.

Whiskey made her angry ( _as if I need more of that_ ,) and tequila made her horny ( _definitely don’t want that_ ,) so Skye shook her head. “Vodka?” Hunter made a little ‘ah’ noise and grabbed a bottle of the clear liquid.

“We’d have to go to the kitchen for something to mix--” Skye simply strode over and grabbed the bottle from his hands, twisting off the cap. “Or not.” She took a swig and winced a bit, handing the bottle back. “Sanitary,” Hunter said flatly. Skye took a seat in front of the coffee table, far beyond worrying about wrinkling her fancy dress. Hunter sat down across from her, placing two glasses on the table and pouring a bit of vodka in each one. “Want to talk about it?”

Skye lifted her glass and downed it in one go. “Nope.”

***

“Skye will infiltrate the party, and when the contact approaches, she’ll make the exchange.” Flipping through the holograms, Coulson brought up the event description and location, with a floor map of the building. “The gala will be in the ballroom, with security guarding the second floor and the perimeter. The exchange itself is simple: Mr. Wheeler will receive the fake passports Skye created for him and his wife to get out of the country, and in return, Skye will get the flash drive with Hydra intel.”

“Then there’s the rub,” Skye took over smoothly, facing the group. “These drives have a built-in security system that wipes the information if they’ve been outside of a Hydra facility for 24 hours. The contact clocked out at 9 pm last night, so we’ll be cutting it close.” Skye zoomed out the floor plan, which became an aerial shot of the building and the surrounding area. “We won’t have time to get to the base, so someone will need to be ready in an unmarked vehicle with my computer. I’ll get the drive, exit as quickly and stealthily as possible and upload the data. Whoever drives needs to be close enough to the premises to pick me up in a hurry, I’ve plotted some possible areas you can park without causing suspicion.” Coulson nodded at her appreciatively, and Skye made a subtle, ‘after you’ motion with her hands. Hunter rolled his eyes and sighed.

“ _Hunter_ ,” Coulson said pointedly, “will accompany Skye on the mission as backup and an extra hand in maintaining her cover.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll what?”

“Coulson?” Skye was surprised, and she wasn’t happy about it. She and Coulson had been planning the op for days, and while they discussed she might need backup in the building, he’d never dropped any names. Perhaps foolishly, she assumed this meant he would go with her. Luckily, Skye wasn’t the only one who thought this was a terrible idea.

“No way, Hunter can’t do undercover,” Bobbi said bluntly.

“What she said,” Hunter replied, and Bobbi responded with an eye roll of her own. Coulson frowned.

“I’m sorry? He did fine on our mission in Florida.”

“Yeah, when all he had to do was mack on girls,” Skye snorted, and Hunter did a little salute. Bobbi stepped in.  

“This is a swanky party for rich benefactors and Hydra supporters, Hunter won’t be in there for five minutes before blowing it. _If_ he even makes it in the door.” Skye had witnessed enough interactions between Bobbi and her ex-husband to know that the intent wasn’t as mean as the sentiments were, despite her tone having slightly less than the recommended amount of professional neutrality. “He can’t schmooze,” she said simply. “He’s not wired for it.”

“She is absolutely correct,” Hunter agreed.

“We could get him in as security, a bartender _maybe_ ,” Bobbi elaborated. “Best bet would probably be waitstaff.”

“Okay, we get it,” Hunter said, offended. “Why don’t you go, Sir? You planned the mission, wouldn’t need a briefing on the layout, and are far less likely to be detected.”

Skye opened her mouth to agree, but Coulson spoke first.

“That wouldn’t work,” he replied right away, and Hunter, Bobbi and Skye all looked puzzled.

“Why not?” Skye asked, crossing her arms. “He’s right, you planned the op and you already said I can’t go in alone when we started mapping it out.” Coulson looked weirdly uncomfortable, and it occurred to Skye that he might not have expected this much resistance.

“The point of being undercover is not drawing attention, or making people pause,” Coulson explained. “Hunter and Skye would be able to infiltrate undetected.” He sounded like he was trying to keep his voice neutral, in that way you could always tell was an _attempt_ and not _actually_ neutral. “I think Skye and I working together on this could come across as...discordant.”

 _What?_ Skye was genuinely confused. _He thinks we don’t_ look _right?_

“You _do_ remember the crowd that’s going to be attending this event, don’t you?” Hunter asked. Next to him Bobbi was silent, but clearly just holding her tongue. “I’m just saying, this place is going to be positively packed with the wealthy dabbling in crime, many of whom probably won’t exactly be bringing their wives. You could just be another rich old guy with a hot sidep-- _respectable young lady companion._ ” Hunter finished, eyeing an annoyed Skye warily.

“We don’t want people asking questions,” Coulson told him, with a tone of finality.

 _Like that’s going to work,_ Skye thought.

“You’re thinking of the wrong questions,” Hunter told him, raising an eyebrow. “They won’t be asking ‘what is he doing here?’ They’ll be asking, ‘how much money does that guy make?’ ‘What is he doing right that I’m missing?’ ‘Does she have a sister?’” Skye rolled her eyes.

“If we could stop acting like I'm going to be a hooker that would be great,” she retorted, crossing her arms. Watching Coulson carefully, Skye could tell something was up. _Is he mad at me?_ Hunter was making most of the objections, _But why is he so opposed to working with me on this?_

“Not _hooker_ , just an enterprising young lady. Maybe one with some student loans to pay off.”

“Hunter. Enough,” Coulson told him sharply. Hunter looked baffled.

“Am I going crazy? I am thinking about the mission here and what is going to get us in that building and walking out with the intel.” He shook his head. “Whatever morality issues you’re having with the role you would be playing are the problem here, not me.”

The room got quiet then, and even Hunter could tell he may have taken it a step too far. Coulson pursed his lips, clearly unhappy. Hunter was way out of line, but Skye wondered if his words had any truth to them. _Is Coulson having_ moral _problems with this? Working with me?_ She supposed the cover was sort of sleazy, acting as criminals. Hunter took some artistic liberties in describing them, but Skye was good enough to build them good back stories no one would question. _I don’t see what the issue is._

May’s voice broke the silence, surprising everyone, especially the Director. “It’s a solid cover, Coulson.” He turned to face her, looking almost betrayed. “Skye won’t get in there alone and she needs backup in case something goes wrong. You’ll both fit in with the demographics involved, and there is no way Hunter wouldn’t burn this mission to the ground.”

“Thank you!” Hunter said, sounding exonerated.

Coulson looked at May who, for her part, looked encouraging underneath the usual stoicism. He sighed.

“Okay then, Skye and I will infiltrate. Hunter, you accompany May in the SUV for extraction and backup if necessary. We leave in 4 hours.”

***

“If it helps, you look lovely.”

“It doesn’t help,” Skye replied, moving to pour more of the liquid into her glass. Hunter made her pause, placing a hand over the cup.

“Let’s make a game of it, hm?” Motioning for her to wait, he moved back to the bookshelf and grabbed a couple of shot glasses. Probably more appropriate than the tumblers they had been using, Skye had to admit. “What do you say, we have _an old fashioned prairie drink off?_ ” He slipped into that stupid southern accent he had been so proud of nearly a year before, and Skye rolled her eyes.

“No, that’s not a good idea,” she said. _Maybe getting shitfaced isn’t the best way to deal with this_ , she thought. _Things were going so well._

“Oh? Don’t think you can handle it?”

Skye looked up.

“On second thought…”

 

A couple shots in, Hunter got chatty.

“So.”

“No.”

“Oh come on,” he sighed, watching her drain her shot. Filling his own glass, he watched her. “I’m trying to be helpful, friendly, I thought we had a good thing going on.” Skye’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs, but she watched Hunter drink, and started to wonder.

“On the off chance I _am_ willing to talk,” she began, watching him perk up. “How do you suppose it’ll help?” Hunter’s brow furrowed, and he filled her shot glass for her.

“I don’t know, really. You could get a second opinion,” he shrugged, “maybe you and I have more in common than you think?” Thoughtfully, Skye picked up the glass, tossing it back. The vodka burned going down, as usual, but the effect was dulled by the third of fourth shot. She really hoped they didn’t get a mission the next day.

“What makes you say that?” _You first_ , is what Skye was really trying to say. _You say something first so I don’t make an idiot out of myself._

Hunter sighed, sliding the bottle between his hands on the table. “It can be _challenging_ ,” he started, looking at the motion of the bottle and not her face, “when you care about someone, and they’re only letting you have half.” Skye’s brow furrowed, and Hunter drank.

“Half of what?”

Sliding the bottle back to her, he shrugged. “I don't know, half. Half of everything, half of what you want. I assume everyone wants a- a whole, _thing_ , right?”

 _If he’s already having difficulties, this might not last long._ But maybe it wasn’t the alcohol. Watching him avoid her gaze, Skye was surprised. _Is he embarrassed?_

“On a basic level,” Hunter explained, leaning forward now, “a relationship can be divided into the physical and the emotional aspects, yeah?”

Skye wanted to say that it was more complicated than that, but she also wanted to see where he went with this. She nodded.

“Okay, so,” he gestured between them. “You and I are having the opposite problem,” he explained, and Skye tilted her head.

“What?” She took another shot. _Maybe that will help this make sense._

Hunter sighed, exasperated. “As you may or may not know, Bobbi and I,” he lowered his voice dramatically, “have been sort of...back on. In the, you know, physical sense.” Skye grimaced. She was aware. “But,” he continued, pouring himself a generous shot. “Emotionally?” He exhaled loudly, before downing the drink.

“And you want that?” Skye asked, surprised. After all of the ‘she-devil ex-wife’ talk, and the back and forth, and the fact that he was, well, Lance Hunter, hearing that he missed an emotional connection with Bobbi? _Wait_. “How do we have the opposite problem?”

He looked at her like it was obvious. “You know, grass is always greener and all that jazz. I have a physical relationship with Bobbi but if you asked me whether or not she loves me, I’d probably have to go with a big question mark. While _you_ \--” Skye held up a hand.

“I’m not with _anyone_. Emotionally or anything else.”

“Now we know that’s not true.”

Skye began to pour her next shot, and Hunter put a hand on her wrist. Looking up at his face, it occurred to Skye just how much they’d had to drink so far. “If you asked anyone on this base whether or not the Director loved you--doesn’t matter what way, not right now-- what do you think their answers would be?” Skye shrugged, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. Like liquid, the dress slipped off where the slit was, and a substantial amount of her thigh became visible. She couldn’t be bothered to care, but saw Hunter’s eyes move down.

At her raised eyebrow he reached over and tapped a bare knee. “Now, if you asked the same people if he would ever act on it…”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Skye muttered. Seeing her mood darken, Hunter gave her a friendly nudge on the shoulder, just barely making contact.

“Sorry, depth perception,” he said at her confused face. “Hey, let’s make this interesting.” Skye let out a sigh, but didn’t shut it down completely. “We keep going shot for shot, but whoever gives up first has to do whatever the other person says.” Skye snorted.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Excellent!”

“Hunter, that was sarcastic,” she explained, but he shook his head.

“Too late, you agreed. So, what do you want me to do if you win?” Skye rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, something embarrassing?”

Hunter shrugged. “Alright then. Creative.” Skye scowled. “If I win, you have to have a serious talk with Mr. Director about his issues.” Her scowl deepened.

“Or life-threatening,” Skye amended. “Something possibly life-threatening.” Hunter shuddered, but held up his shot glass. Skye clinked hers against it.

_Not sure how much good talking would do anyway._

***

Skye’s hand moved between Coulson’s shoulder blades and she let out a dismayed sigh. “Okay, you feel like you’re tensed for battle or something, loosen up!” She emphasized her chiding remarks by pressing the heel of her hand into his back, and Coulson sighed, attempting to relax. Attempting.

Getting back into her cover (so they _both_ didn’t look like the most miserable people at the gala,) Skye smiled over his shoulder, trying to look like a happy, carefree and rich criminal would look. Going deliberately against Hunter’s suggestion, she made the two of them a married couple when creating their identities, yet somehow that did not cheer Coulson up. And now they were on the mission and he was grumpy and his hand was touching the bare skin of her back because _of course_ this dress was backless, why wouldn’t it be?

 _Calm down, Skye_ , she thought. _This is just like that time in Texas. Only now he’s the one who needs to lighten up, not you_. She had been in a hell of a mood that night, and dancing with Coulson, while awkward at first, was nice. Just one of the many nice moments that made their relationship so hard to define these days. She moved her hand from Coulson’s shoulder to loosely drape it around his neck, bringing them closer. His shoulders stiffened. _Are you kidding me?_

“Something’s going on upstairs,” she whispered, doing her best to keep the annoyance out of her voice and appear to anyone who might be watching to be whispering something dirty in her husband’s ear. Thankfully he relaxed, possibly realizing she wasn’t trying to jump him. As they rotated slowly in the dance ( _because of course these events have dancing_ ) he pulled her closer to him and rested his head against hers, getting a look at the stairs.

“How many times have the guards there changed shifts?” His voice reverberated in Skye’s ear, and should could feel his breath against her hair.

“At least three since we got here, think it’ll be a problem?” He shrugged, pulling back. Skye couldn’t decide if she was relieved or frustrated.

“As long as Wheeler gets to us, we’ll be fine.” Skye pulled their entwined hands closer to her, looking at his watch. She hid a frown with a flirty smile, feeling a pair of nearby eyes staring.

“Should we be concerned?” She asked, throwing in a giggle. Coulson’s smile was strained. _Can he not see we’re being watched?_ Skye held it in. “It’s getting closer to eight and he hasn’t showed.” Coulson nodded, his eyes seemed to catch whoever was watching them as they turned to the music. A dark look crossed over his face, but he hid it by merely looking stern. The effect worked, probably better than the half-assed smiles he’d been throwing out all night. But she didn’t like the picture it painted. Now they could be taken for any of these other “couples.” The serious older men and their overly ditzy mistresses, mistresses who were probably playing as much of a role as Skye was right now. Being whoever these men wanted them to be if it meant...whatever they could be looking for. Money. Attention. An escape. Love.

They had done a full turn by now, and Skye decided to take a look at whoever had been watching them. _Oh_. He was still watching. The man was sitting at a nearby table, his younger, beautiful bored date next to him. _Wow, back off creepster_. Skye did not like the way he was looking at her, and she _really_ didn’t like the way he was looking at her and Coulson, like they were...

Then it hit her.

“Is that how you see us?” Skye pulled back to look at Coulson, who for his part looked surprised.

“What?” Skye reached up to turn her earpiece off, and stared Coulson down until he did the same. Reluctantly.

“Is that how you see us, like these people?” She gestured at the people around them, vaguely in the direction of the man who hadn’t learned not to stare.

“Skye,” he sighed, not looking at her.

“That’s why you didn’t want to do this mission with me, isn’t it? Because I make you feel like a--a--”

“ _Skye_.” He nodded his head to their left, and Skye saw him. Their contact. Putting on her mission face, which in this case was a smile no emptier than that of her _peers_ for the evening, Skye separated her hand from Coulson’s.

“Hand me my clutch? I’m going to run to the ladies room.” Reaching in his coat pocket, the Director removed the satiny black purse and handed it to Skye. She thought maybe at this point she should probably throw in some lovey dovey gesture before leaving the room, like a good girl, but she didn’t feel like it so she simply turned away. Grabbing a champagne flute from a nearby tray, she put on a tipsy act, not a hard sell.

Detaching the passports--wrapped in the same black material-- from the outside of the purse, Skye jostled gently into John Wheeler, soon to be Daniel Evans. Smoothly she placed the sleek pouch in his coat pocket, and as she stumbled she braced herself with her purse against his chest. Feeling him slip the USB under her fingers as he pulled back to see if she was alright, Skye felt the thrill of a successful mission fill her chest. Drunkenly reassuring him _she was fine, really, reeaaally fine_ , Skye slid the USB into the purse and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Placing the still-half-full glass on a nearby table, Skye looked at her surroundings. She could make a break for the main door now, but that would be suspicious, and it had more security than they planned for. Annoyed, Skye realized she would have to go with the original, less-desired escape plan. Cracking her neck, Skye headed down the hall. _Out the bathroom window it is._

Coulson was to find his own way out.

***

“He just--won’t _be_ around me lately,” Skye lamented, and Hunter nodded. “Ever since I gave him a stupid boner he--”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Its a totally normal physal--physia-reaction,” she continued, not noticing Hunter’s flabbergasted face.

“You gave Director Coulson a--”

“SHHHH!” Skye put her hand over his mouth, worried that the concept of ‘indoor voices’ had taken off way too early. “It was just one, one time. And it wasn’t even on purpose. But now,” she flopped back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling. “I thought we were _good_ , we--we were closer than like, ever. We’re fine planning missions, but apart from that.” She blew a raspberry. That was all his behavior deserved, really.

“These guys ruin everthin’,” Hunter said, gesturing at his crotch. Skye let out an unladylike laugh.

“You sound like Oliver Twist.”

“Oh shut up,” Hunter muttered. Skye sighed.

“I jus’ thought that all of this was _going somewhere,_ ya know?” She rubbed her eyes tiredly, knowing she was dangerously close to going from silly drunk to melancholy drunk. Blissfully, they seemed to have lost track of whose turn it was, so the competition had petered out. She also had the presence of mind a while back to grab bottles of water, maybe a leftover instinct from her “glory days” of drinking contests. She hated hangovers and wasn’t interested in having one. “We take one step forward, two steps back.”

Hunter nodded limply. “We’ve plateau’d,” he said, throwing his arms out hopelessly. “I try to have a meaninful conve-talk, with _her_ ,” Hunter whined, “and it’s either ‘let’s have sex’ or ‘m’ too busy to talk,’ or 'oh look, a mission has come up,' thanks to _your_ boyfriend.” He pointed at Skye accusingly.

“Not my boyfriend.” Hunter just groaned in response, and Skye thought she might possibly fall asleep in her chair. “Lessgo,” she murmured, forcing herself to stand. “Lessgo to bed.”

“Skye, that won’t solve anythin’,” he replied, before laughing hysterically. “I know, I know,” he repeated breathlessly, and Skye groaned.

“You’re so stupid.”

Walking back through the halls, they took turns shushing each other then laughing, probably waking up half the base. Reaching Skye’s door, Hunter stopped, smacking his forehead dramatically.

“Skye. _Skye_ , who won the contest?” Skye sighed, shrugging.

“We dunno, Hunter, just forget it.” She was ready for bed, ready to get out of that stupid dress and maybe ready to sneak back to the kitchen for some toast.

“Nope, no we need to--it’s a tie. We tied.” He seemed to get distracted for a moment, before getting that strange look of zen drunk focus Skye was very familiar with.

_Am I super drunk or did he just get very close?_

“Hunter,” Skye muttered, “What are you doing?” _His face is really close._

“Skye, we tied,” he said matter-of factly. Skye shrugged.

“So what’re you--”

“Something embarrassing,” he whispered, before planting his lips on hers. Delayed, it took Skye a second to realize what he was doing, finally pushing him away by the chest.

“What?” She asked, wiping her mouth. “What was th-- Wait, embarrassing for _who_?”

“Now the ‘possibly life-threatening’ part,” he said in her ear, before putting one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her waist and pulling her in close. Skye was prepared this time, though no less confused, so she put a hand over his mouth and pushed him away.

His hold wasn’t strong at all though, she noticed, and he moved slowly enough to not catch her by surprise. It seemed like a hollow move, she thought, feeling how little effort it took to push him away. _Not your typical pushy drunk guy behavior_ , and she would know. _Now I’m really confused._

“ _Your turn_ ,” he said, pulling her hand off of his mouth, and Skye didn’t even know how to comprehend that.

“ _Hunter_.”

A sharp voice echoed from a bit behind Skye, and she turned around. Coulson and May were walking over, and they did _not_ look happy. Quickly Skye took a mental inventory of what they had done that night, which was quite a bit hampered by her inebriated state. She stuck to the basics: in the common room there was an empty vodka bottle, two dirty shot glasses, two dirty tumblers, a couple spills, and at least 5 empty water bottles strewn all over the floor. _My shoes are somewhere in there too_ , she recalled, just now feeling her bare feet on the cold cement floor.

Opening her mouth to apologize for the mess, and promise they would clean it in the morning, Skye became aware that Coulson didn’t look angry at her.

_That’s a first for today._

No, he and May were both glaring at Hunter. On May the look was sort of expected, but on Coulson, it looked _weird_. Skye wasn’t used to looking at furious Coulson, not in non-life-threatening situations, so it was sort of fascinating to watch his face screw up like that. It occurred to Skye then, when Hunter looked like he might pee himself, that she should probably say something.

“Ever’thing’s fine,” Skye said, then immediately wished she could take it back. May raised one eyebrow, conveying exactly how she felt about Skye’s slurred assessment of the situation, while Coulson looked surprised, then madder. “Hunter go to your room,” Skye said with a heavy sigh, before turning her back on everyone and walking into her bunk. Her body (especially her mouth) was too drunk and tired to properly explain the scene, so she was going to go ahead and leave it. “G’night,” she muttered, closing her door.

Sitting on her desk Skye grabbed another water bottle, reminding herself to push through it. _You’ll thank you tomorrow_ , she told herself, wondering if she had any snacks still stashed in her bunk from that time May and Trip cracked down on her diet and enforced the whole ‘clean eating’ regimen. She heard some low voices talking outside her door before they faded away. Switching on her desk lamp, Skye was surprised to hear a knock.

“Uhhh,” she said eloquently, and Coulson slowly opened the door. He stood in the doorway for a couple seconds. “Come in?” Surprisingly he did just that, but leaving the door behind him ajar. _One step forward_ , Skye thought ruefully. She watched him silently, as he stood next to her door. It was such a contrast, she thought, to the way she acted in his spaces. She was comfortable, made herself at home, felt like she belonged there. And, perhaps true to fashion, Coulson looked awkward, unsure of himself in her space.

Skye sighed, rubbing at her eyes again. She just wanted to go to bed now, this was all getting too introspective and weird and if she wasn’t careful she might fuck things up more than they already were. Moving over to her dresser, she dug around for comfortable clothes so she could curl up in a warm little ball and get out of that stupid dress forever. Reaching down to her side she pulled the zipper, then reached up to unbutton the straps behind her neck.

“Skye.” Coulson’s voice seemed louder than she thought it would be, maybe just because they were in such a small space. She turned around curiously and saw him looking pointedly at a spot above her shoulder. He wasn’t blushing, but she supposed he was too _moral_ for that. She rolled her eyes, continuing to change. _Okay, maybe I like that he's all honorable. Ugh._ She only stumbled a little bit steppin g into her sweatpants, and she couldn’t decide if she was more happy or annoyed to see Coulson move a bit like he might try to steady her.

_At least he closed the door,_ she thought, acknowledging though that it was probably more to protect  _her_ privacy than  _theirs_ . Kicking the dress to the side, Skye sat down on her bed, watching him. He still seemed on edge, and it took Skye a minute to remember why. She snorted. “You’re not really concerned about Hunter, are you?” His answer was to set his jaw and avoid eye contact. “Really? Coulson, he’s  _Hunter_ , he and Bobbi are- are-- well, not as good as I thought apparently, but that’s, whatever.”

Looking back on their chat, Skye started to recall just how in-depth their heart to heart was.  _He’d better be as embarrassed as me tomorrow_ , she thought. _Maybe more so. He gets to be escorted back to his bunk by May_. “Wait, isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?” Coulson looked confused, so she gestured at the door. “I don’t know, wouldn’t May be the one to check on me and you give Hunter whatever talk he’s going to get for being an idiot?”

The Director frowned. “I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

“Can you just stop, Coulson?” Skye asked, frustrated. “Stop being all mad on my behalf, and stop acting like I need to be protected or babysat or whatever it is you’re doing right now. I can handle myself.”

“You’re drunk,” he replied, his own irritation bubbling to the surface.

“And you’re judgy,” Skye retorted angrily. Coulson looked contrite, which was a start. “Look, I’m glad you and May are concerned, and aren’t going to let that kind of shit fly around here, really. But.” She let out a sigh. “Hunter was just trying to provoke. And he did. Which, frankly, shows that whatever this is--” she gestured vaguely to his presence in her room. “Isn’t out of some director-ly duty to look after your agents.”

Coulson opened his mouth to object, but Skye held up a hand. “If this happened with anyone else, would you be in _the woman’s_ room? Coulson, you haven’t even brought it up since you’ve been in here, you’re clearly not here to talk about it.” This wasn’t a professional pow-wow, it was Coulson trying to get Skye to open up. And honestly, she was tired of being the one who opened up and spilled her guts.

“You’re right,” Coulson said, and Skye’s head shot up to look at him. “If it were someone else, I would have handled this differently.” Skye nodded, watching him. He seemed sad, which was alarming and unusual, but she had to let this run its course. She couldn’t give him an out anymore. “And I didn’t handle our mission properly, either.”

That was unexpected. “No, you didn’t,” Skye agreed. “Why didn’t you want to run that op with me? What do you care if a bunch of nazis think we’re…” She shrugged. It was his hangup, not hers, so she didn’t feel the need to vocalize it. Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I shouldn’t, and it’s not about what they think, not really.” He leaned back against Skye’s door, staring at her. “When you’ve gone undercover as much as  have, you see how it can sometimes...affect people. It’s not intentional, but, for example, putting up an act of intimacy, can....” he trailed off, as if she was supposed to pick up on what he was saying.

“Please, don’t try to explain to me what undercover is again,” Skye replied, frustrated. “Coulson, if you think I’m going to mess up a mission by reading into something--”

“That’s not what I meant,” he interrupted softly. Skye sent him a petulant look, but didn’t say anything. He seemed to think for a bit. “When I was a kid, I was probably the shortest guy in my grade for a good year. I knew it, but it didn’t bother me. Until someone else brought it up.” He laughed a bit to himself, shaking his head. “It was stupid, because obviously everyone already knew, but I felt _found out_ , somehow. That by saying it out loud, this kid had made it so everyone who looked at me would see me that way.”

Skye watched him, curious. This was probably the first time he ever told her about himself as a kid, and it was important. “So you were worried that if we played those roles, people might see us that way.” She sighed, “Coulson, you know how I feel about what other people think.”

“I thought _you_ might start to see us that way.”

“Well that’s stupid of you.”

He sighed. “Maybe.” Skye stood up and walked over to Coulson slowly, like she didn’t want to startle him. He watched her warily, but didn’t move.

“I know where I stand in this, and how I feel, so you need to figure out whatever it is you’re wrestling with,” Skye said quietly, and Coulson’s eyes widened. “But, for the record: I don’t think you’re creepy.” He smiled ruefully and Skye gave him a friendly pat on the cheek. "And I don't want the idea of--this-- to make you feel bad." She moved to pull her hand away, when he grabbed it gently.

“I might need...time,” he said earnestly, and Skye nodded.

“Yeah, that’s cool.” _You had to expect that,_ she told herself, fighting against the disappointment she felt rising in her chest. _This isn’t a bad thing_. “Just-- just, _please_ don’t let it interfere with missions anymore.” He shook his head, moving her hand down from its place on his cheek. Letting go, he put his hands in his pockets.

“Are you…?” Coulson vaguely shrugged his shoulders in her direction, and Skye looked at him curiously. “Was this a very bad time to have this conversation?” Skye shook her head. She was still a bit tipsy, but had enough to focus on to keep her grounded for the moment.

“Remember? I’m a drinking contest master,” she replied. “But I’m probably going to make some tea or something, if you want to…” Coulson shook his head, but smiled politely.

“I should probably get some sleep,” he rolled his eyes as he yawned, and Skye registered for the first time that she and Hunter must have woken him up. “I’m not a young man anymore, Skye.” The words obviously held a second meaning, and she scoffed, stepping into her slippers and walking to the kitchen.

“Really? I never noticed that before.”

“Okay.”

“No, seriously. Until you just mentioned it? No clue.”

“I get it.”

“It’s like, suddenly you say that, and the illusion is lifted.”

Coulson sighed, and they parted ways. “I don’t know if you knew this,” Skye stage-whispered at his retreating back, “But I can make earthquakes.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Skye.”

“Does that change things?”


End file.
